Happy Ending
by newvagabond
Summary: A/N: Starscream/Vehicon (Steve!) Tactile, non-sticky, no robodicks, you know the drill. Got this idea after I got a massage a few weeks ago. xD; Enjoy. Pre-Knock Out.


A/N: **Starscream/Vehicon (Steve?!)** **Tactile, non-sticky, no robodicks, you know the drill.**

Got this idea after I got a massage a few weeks ago. xD; Enjoy. Pre-Knock Out.

* * *

Sore. Scraped. Scratched.

It was no secret that Starscream was lacking his usual luster. Normally sparkling silver was dull and tired. Elegant strut broken down to an overworked drag of pedes.

He needed a good cleaning. And a waxing, while he was at it. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten a full treatment. It was never as good here as on Cybertron, of course. He could get detail work done before meeting with his squadron and enjoy all of the optics on his shiny plating.

Here it was still possible, but the Nemesis wasn't exactly a spa. And on this cycle, Starscream wasn't exactly busy, so he left Soundwave to his precious baby computer and slipped away down the corridors of the large ship.

All Decepticons took pride in their finish and so the ship of course had a body shop. Paint, wax, buffers, cleanser, everything they needed. As they were currently without a medic who could do fine detailing, it became a drone job.

Noisy doors slid open and Starscream did his best to perk up around the Vehicons hanging about in fresh paint. Hot air entered his vents and his shoulders lowered in anticipation of what was to come.

There was a private station in back that he had personally asked to be installed. Soundwave had thought it unnecessary and at the time Megatron had been in a good mood and allowed it. Who said licking cables didn't get a mech anything he wanted?

The Vehicon standing outside of the room tilted his helm in a silent bow, red visor glowing. Starscream entered, servos behind his back, faceplate up in his usual regal scrapshit.

Strips of light adorned the walls in a deep glow of amethyst. Also Starscream's doing. After all, ambiance was key to relaxation. As was freshly heated energon and if he didn't get his cube in two nano-kliks, he was going to—

Ah. Smart Vehicon. Starscream took the cube and sat, letting it warm his talons.

The Vehicon lowered, small tray of tools and a cup of liquid by his side. First things first: pedes. His landers were probably loaded with organic muck, ugh, such a filthy planet. The drone took his right leg and propped it up on his knee. Starscream sat back, finally taking a sip of his fuel and letting it slide down his intake in a tingle.

First a dull blade dragged under the heel, and any dirt was scraped off into a basin. When both landers were clean, they were gently wiped with a damp cloth to catch any residual grime. Good boy.

The Decepticon rose with his tray and motioned to the berth, not that Starscream needed guidance. Finishing off his drink, the Seeker got up and settled on his front, arms folded for his helm to rest upon.

"The usual will do," Starscream vocalized, letting the heat from the berth transfer to his cockpit with a hum. "Try not to scratch a wing this time."

That being said, he turned his wings down to allow easier access to his frame. The Vehicon remained silent, and Starscream heard a swish of liquid before steaming water was poured over his back. The drains below clicked open and the commander ex-vented happily at the feeling of hot water between his plates.

Red optics slitted when he felt cleanser being applied. Now for the deep cleaning. Between plates and every corner of his wings. The drone even knelt down to oh so gently take Starscream's servo into his hands and clean between every little hinge.

This wasn't even the best part yet and Starscream was in heaven. Thankfully the high-powered rinse was next (his second favorite part) and the aerial had to refrain from twitching as the servo-held gun rinsed cleanser from every crevice. He'd always been a bit ticklish when it came to that bit.

The glow in the room pulsed as if feeding off of Starscream's mood and he gazed upon the strips of light as he was dried off.

He almost looked back to check, even though he knew what was coming next. The very second he felt hot oil on his back he all but melted into the berth, optics shuttering closed in a low and satisfied moan.

Trained and careful claws pressed over him, applying the most perfect amount of pressure to make Starscream's vents rattle in a blissful sigh. His plating was already beginning to loosen, shifting apart as his protoform beneath relaxed. Slick servos smoothed over backstrut and down to dip into upper legs, smoothing out the tension. If Starscream's field was fluttering like a newly sparked mech, well, that was a good sign.

The Seeker's wings quivered at the first warm touch and he pressed his faceplate into his arms as a ripple of energy passed through him. He was going to recharge so well tonight.

A particularly generous stroke down a wing made him bite his mouthplate and he was about to encourage more of that when sudden pain shot up his frame from the tip of a plane.

Wings snapping up, plating pinching, Starscream snarled and in a swift move only a Seeker could pull off, he whipped around and brought a claw across the Vehicon's visor.

"_What_ did I _tell you?_"

Static fizzled at the drone's helm where the scratch was. At least two definite claw marks were left behind and Starscream didn't give a frag. His relaxed state had been tainted and his energy field scraped like sandpaper. Focusing his sensors, he detected a mixture of surprise and fear in his masseur's field.

But there was still a strong buzz in him. Perhaps it had been building up over the past few cycles and he hadn't noticed. Overcharge was straining on a mech.

The aerial's right wing twitched thoughtfully as the Vehicon bowed his head in deep remorse. Servos still oily and heated, he noted. Of course Starscream was shiny and... quite slippery. He slid forward on the berth, optics going to half-mast as he reached to touch the drone's faceplate.

"Continue," the commander murmured, tracing one of the scratches he made before sitting back slightly.

The Vehicon's optical light was dim with embarrassment but he nodded and grabbed more oil to pour.

"Ah-ah," Starscream stopped him. "With your hands."

After a momentary stare, the drone dipped his servo into the oil and when he received a nod, pressed the hand to Starscream's chestplate. It dripped, thick and hot down his frame, over his cockpit and onto his abdominal cables. Plating began to shift apart again as the obedient Vehicon continued his work.

But Starscream was already alight. Ripe. He curled a claw around the Decepticon's arm, broad smirk on his plate. He slid the claw to wrist and guided the slick hand down his cockpit, keeping optics locked. His sensors felt the 'con's field go _wait, what_ and then snap into _oh_.

Starscream didn't toy with him any longer and yanked their frames flush against each other.

"You're going to have to make it up to me," he said, stroking the Vehicon's leg with the heel of his pede.

There was a nano-klik of hesitation before the drone stroked back up the cockpit, helm tilted like he was of two processors about what to think about this. Starscream was intuitive as ever and laughed and it was husky and horny and would make any mech want to frag him into the next vorn.

The drone's other servo still held a cup of oil, and Starscream knew just what to do with it. Guiding his hand again, he brought the cup low and tilted it. The oil spilled over his grey chassis and the Vehicon seemed to short-circuit at the sight.

Starscream threw the now empty cup at the wall and dragged his glossa against his masseur's nondescript faceplate. The optical strip lit up in a brilliant red at the action and the last of his hesitation fizzled away as claws slammed to his commander's chassis.

"Yes," Starscream encouraged, shivering when claws stroked the underside of the plating there, which was always more sensitive than the outside. His own talons were hooked onto shoulders.

Being serviced was always a treat. But being serviced while slick with delicious hot oil—why hadn't he ever thought of this before? Everything was nice and slippery and somehow the slide made everything so much hotter.

The silver Seeker hissed when the drone suddenly became adventurous and pulled on a thick fuel line. The energy washed up to his wings which fluttered and Starscream pressed closer, scratching now where his claws held on.

"More," he demanded in a low growl, grinding his chassis up. The Vehicon's servos slipped under his aft and with skilled fingers manipulated the plating there to get to raw undersides and very under-used sensors.

Starscream's field flared now, wings sharply angled as the pleasure rose. He heard the Vehicon's fans roaring and gave another appreciative plate-lick.

In the excitement, the drone seemed to lose his footing and slipped forward, crashing their frames together at an angle—it was all the Seeker's sensornet needed and he let out a shriek as a shuddering overload strained his systems.

He was a mess of gooey static and hot oil in the Vehicon's hands. Glancing around uncertainly, the drone carefully let go of Starscream, who was still in a blissful daze.

When he opened his optics, the Vehicon was holding out a vial of coolant. Starscream drank it with a stupid smile and watched as the drone lowered to begin shining his pedes. Huh. Dutiful as ever. Of course it wasn't like a Vehicon _not_ to get to work.

Still, there was an obvious unresolved quality to that energy field. The drone hadn't achieved overload, or even tried to it seemed. He'd only focused on his commander.

Starscream was hardly a _nice_ mech. But he knew good work and appreciation—and he knew when rewards were to be granted.

And getting your interface cable sucked by Commander Starscream was a _hell _of a reward.


End file.
